


A Little Longer

by ziskandra



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Emotional Repression, Extramarital Affairs, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26173702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziskandra/pseuds/ziskandra
Summary: It’s not the first time Zevran has assisted a friend in a loveless marriage.
Relationships: Alistair/Zevran Arainai
Comments: 10
Kudos: 52
Collections: Flash Fuck Around 2020





	A Little Longer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astrospecial](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrospecial/gifts).



“I may no longer be a Crow,” Zevran starts, firm fingers wrapped around the base of Alistair’s cock, “but I still know some people who might be able to devise a solution to your little problem.”

“I don’t understand,” Alistair answers, bucking his hips up off the bed, eyes cloudy with lust. “A solution to what, exactly?”

Zevran laughs, amused by Alistair’s innocence, even after everything he’s been through. “You don’t love her, no?” he asks, hand stroking firmly upwards. Alistair hisses sharply through his teeth. “Sometimes, in such situations, one might find oneself meeting an unfortunate accident…” He trails off, sure Alistair will be able to intuit his meaning now. His thumb swipes over the head of Alistair’s erection, soaking up beads of precum.

Alistair makes a pained noise from the back of his throat, forehead creasing as though deep in thought. “Maker’s breath,” he gasps in realisation. “You can’t seriously be considering killing her. Or me. Neither is good.” He scrunches his eyes shut, struggles to steady his breathing. “I’d thought you’d had enough of Fereldan politics to last a lifetime.”

“True,” Zevran answers with an easy shrug. “And yet here I find myself, in bed with its king.” The rate with which he pumps Alistair’s cock quickens and Zevran delights in the noises his lover makes, the way his hands clench into fists by his sides, how he tries to stop himself from squirming, but fails.

“Zevran, I’m—”

Zevran heeds Alistair’s mostly unspoken warning, quickly ducks down his head to wrap his lips around Alistair’s shaft. He makes it in time but only just, eagerly swallowing down the thick, wet release. Once he’s done, he draws back, releasing Alistair’s cock from his mouth with a messy _pop_ and licking the last droplets of cum he finds there. Alistair threads his fingers through Zevran’s hair and Zevran rests his cheek against the breadth of Alistair’s freckled thigh, wondering for how long Alistair will allow himself to enjoy his afterglow this time.

It is these peaceful moments that Zevran enjoys the most, where neither of them allow themselves the opportunity to think. One of Alistair’s hands even drifts down from Zevran’s hair, drapes lazily over his shoulders.

It is over sooner than Zevran would like. Alistair blinks blearily, as though he has only just now realised that he is an exclusive backroom of _The Pearl_ , as though he hasn’t the foggiest idea as to why he’s visited a brothel at all. It’s not as though King Alistair is the type of man to go out whoring – he didn’t have the same reputation his brother had – but Zevran always chooses to stay at The Pearl when he visits Denerim.

Brothels remind him of home.

“I should get going,” Alistair says as he pushes himself upright, brushing the palms of his hands against his knees, as though it might erase his presence. “I’ll…” he ducks his head, averts his gaze. “… be missed.”

Zevran eyes Alistair shrewdly. “Anora knows,” he reminds him. Zevran is aware of this simple fact because it is Alistair himself who had told him.

“Yes, but,” Alistair counters, and Zevran wants nothing more to silence him with a kiss, to tell him that the consequences don’t matter, but that is not in the scope of their arrangement and besides, he’s curious as to what Alistair might have to say. “She deserves better.”  
  
“Don’t you?” Zevran counters, pulling the blankets up over his hips, halfway up his chest, doing his best to pretend he doesn’t feel exposed as he does. He tries to remind himself he cares little for love, that he is doing this for Alistair’s benefit. It is a lie, but a comforting one nonetheless.

“What I want doesn’t matter,” says Alistair with more conviction than he anything else he had said tonight, tugging up his breeches. Zevran realises he is not alone when it comes to comforting lies.

“Stay a while,” Zevran urges, reaching out to Alistair. “And remember that my offer still stands.”

Alistair pauses, then accepts Zevran’s hand, threading their fingers together as he flops back down on the bed, intertwining his legs with Zevran’s. “A little longer, then,” he agrees, ignoring the latter part of Zevran’s proposition. Zevran doesn’t personally understand the hesitation: it wouldn’t be the first time he’s assisted a friend in a loveless marriage. But Alistair is Alistair and Zevran doesn’t deign to assume his reasons for being the way that he is.

A little longer will have to suffice for now. 


End file.
